Malfunction (Season 4, Episode 13)
by bionic4ever
Summary: (Season 4, Episode 13) Jaime is suffering crippling headaches that threaten her life while on a mission...with Michael! Is Steve being irrational (and jealous) or do Jaime's headaches really have a more sinister cause? As always, a bionic-strength Thank You to the members of The Bionic Project!
1. Prologue

**MALFUNCTION**- Season 4, Episode 13

Prologue

Steve cast a worried, anxious look at his wife. She was taking far too long to open that safe! Then he saw Jaime wince in pain - and his mind began to scramble through their options...which were slim to none. They had such a small time frame to get into the safe and back out, down that long hallway, before it began filling up with armed guards who had likely already been alerted to their presence. Unlike the mission that had gone bad (years ago) at the Wrona estate, there was no window to jump out of to make an escape. If they failed - or if they took too long - they were trapped. And they were _done_.

Jaime's left hand shot to her forehead, trying to massage the _pain_ from her temples as she concentrated harder on listening to the tumblers. She cracked the safe and Steve used his eye to reach in among the otherwise invisible booby-traps to retrieve the stolen codes. They hit the hallway seconds too late, moving at bionic speed as gunfire erupted behind them. Their pick-up chopper very nearly missed them, as they'd come out so fast...and so _late_.

When they were finally safely aboard, Steve turned to Jaime with cold fear in his eyes. (Terrorists with guns didn't scare him...but something potentially wrong with his wife terrified the _hell _out of him!) She sat with her head back against the wall of the chopper, her eyes screwed shut, obviously still in pain. It had been their first mission after more than six weeks of recuperation from their respective surgeries and should've been simple and straightforward - in and out. They'd both been cleared by Rudy and by their individual doctors - Doctor Kyle (the thoracic man) for Steve and Michael for Jaime. Given their abilities, there had seemed to be no possibility that anything could go wrong except...it had.

''Sweetheart...'' Steve began quietly, ''what happened in there?''


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Jaime barely spoke while they were on the chopper, other than telling Steve she was sorry, that she just had a bad headache...and then falling asleep. When it came time to board the transport plane back to Edwards AFB, Steve had trouble rousing her but once awake, she claimed the 'nap' had done her a world of good and that her headache was gone. Jaime was no longer cringing or even wincing in pain, so Steve believed her - and began questioning her more closely, to assuage his own fears.

''What kind of headache was it?'' he asked.

''It was just a _headache_. And you worry too much.''

Steve had known her for too long to buy such a simplistic explanation. This had been _visible_ pain - and he needed to determine what to tell Rudy. ''Was it like when you rejected?'' he probed gently. He knew she didn't remember her initial bout with bionic rejection (the one that had killed her) but she'd experienced another serious incident recently. _Please God...don't let it be that! _he thought to himself.

''No, this went around the front of my head from my temples, especially the right side...but it didn't take over my whole body, like the pain when I was rejecting.''

''Sweetheart...Michael did another x-ray when he cleared you for this mission, right?''

''No. He used that brand-new machine - the...um...the MRI. Said it gives him a more detailed picture without the risks of radiation from too many x-rays,'' Jaime explained.

Steve nodded, filing the information away for future reference.

* * *

''I just don't see it,'' Rudy puzzled, looking at the images from Jaime's pre-mission MRI. ''There's nothing here to account for what Steve says happened to her.''

''I don't see anything either,'' Michael told him. ''And she passed every test with flying colors; as far as I can tell, there's nothing wrong with her.''

''Residual effects from her surgery?''

''Shouldn't be,'' Michael answered, deep in thought. ''But...I just don't know.''

* * *

''I _don't _need more tests!'' Jaime insisted. ''It was just a headache - and I'm fine now!''

''Sweetheart, if Michael and Rudy feel that - ''

''No. That machine...the MRI tube thing...it gives me the creeps!'' Jaime shivered, remembering. ''It's like a medieval torture chamber - or something out of a bad science fiction novel! No...I don't wanna do it again!''

''Jaime...''

''I opened my eyes and that thing was _right there_, spinning around, like an inch from my nose. I...it felt like I was suffocating, Steve! Michael had to put me out so he could finish! I'd rather take my chances with too many x-rays!''

* * *

Steve looked at the new MRI machine and had to admit to himself that Jaime was right; it _did _resemble a torture chamber. But if it was necessary...

''I'd like to do another MRI,'' Michael told him. ''I'll put her out again if she's nervous but it would be a great help in determining what - if anything - is wrong with her.''

''Something's definitely wrong,'' Steve insisted. ''I know what I saw.''

''Alright; we can use the first images as a baseline and compare them to a new test. Bring her in as soon as you can get her here.''

''Jaime said she'd rather have another x-ray,'' Steve said slowly. ''Looking at that..._thing_...I can't say that I blame her.''

Rudy shook his head. ''She's had too many x-rays already. I'm concerned about exposing her to more radiation. The MRI is safer. Do your best to talk Jaime into it.''

It wasn't easy, but Steve managed to persuade his wife to have the test. He sat and held her hand while the sedative took effect, then retired with Rudy to his office while Michael performed the scan. The results were encouraging...but very confusing. Another normal scan, no different than the one she'd had pre-mission, meant there was nothing the two doctors could pinpoint that might have caused Jaime's problem.

Maybe it _was_ just a headache, after all.

* * *

That night, Jaime was shredding lettuce for a salad when she eavesdropped into the living room...just to see what Steve was doing. It was something she did all the time, without really even thinking about it...but a few minutes later Steve meandered into the kitchen and found his wife with her hand to her forehead again, massaging her temples. Her face was a ghostly shade of white (something that _hadn't _happened on the mission) and she looked like she was about to topple over. Steve wrapped his arms around her and led her toward the living room sofa.

''I'll call Michael,'' he said softly.

Jaime shook her head, trying to toss off the pain...and it seemed to work. ''Steve? I think...I'm okay now.'' Her words came out in a rush as she tried to calm her worried husband and keep him from calling her doctor. ''You don't need to call Michael. It doesn't hurt anymore - really! Please don't bother him with this! He's been okay since he said that stuff to me but...'' Jaime stopped, realizing she'd almost just spilled the beans about something she'd never intended for Steve to know. He'd managed to overcome the jealousy and hurt that had resulted from seeing her kissing Michael so passionately (a momentary aberration) and Jaime had never intended to tell him about what Michael had said to her, a few days before she'd been released from the hospital...

_''You and Steve...you've patched things up?''_

_Jaime smiled. ''Yeah - we have.''_

_''If things don't work out - or if you change your mind - we were good together once too. And last week proved we could be good together again -''_

_''Michael -''_

_''If he doesn't give you what you need,'' Michael persisted, ''I want you to know I'm still here for you, Jaime. When you kissed me - you__ kissed __me __- there was something there! I know you felt it too.''_

_''Michael...no. It can't happen - ever again. I'm sorry...''_

_Michael nodded. ''I wanted to make sure you knew that...just in case.''_

But...Steve had heard her slip of the tongue. ''What do you mean 'what he said to you'?'' he demanded. ''Jaime...did something else happen between you and Michael?''


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jaime scrambled for something to say that would _**not **_cause Steve to punch another wall. ''It was nothing...really,'' she offered feebly.

''Jaime Lyn -'' Steve raised his eyebrows at her, waiting expectantly.

''He just...well...'' She couldn't lie to him - but she couldn't tell him the _whole _truth either. So for the moment, Jaime tried to dance around the subject entirely. ''He saved your life, Steve! And mine! I think we should overlook -''

''_Tell me_ what you want me to overlook - and then _I'll _decide!''

''He said...if things didn't work out between you and me...that he would be there.'' Jaime tried not to cringe, waiting for Steve's reaction.

''He _**what**__?!_'' Steve's hands clenched into fists as he pictured what he considered to be a verbal 'pass' at his wife...then he took a deep breath...and another...and forced himself to unclench them.

''Steve...I told him no.''

''Well, I should hope so!'' His voice softened...because he consciously took it there. ''Sweetheart...why didn't you tell me sooner?''

''Because it really was nothing. It _meant _nothing -''

''Sounds like it meant something to him,'' Steve pointed out. He looked closely at his wife. ''Your head...it doesn't hurt now?''

''No; not anymore.''

''Okay. We need to call Rudy.'' And while he was at it, Steve intended to give Rudy an earful about Michael too! He wondered briefly if Michael had done something that was causing Jaime's problem...that would force her back to National and back under his 'care'...but he pushed the random thought away as simply too absurd.

* * *

Rudy was there within the hour, not really understanding why Steve hadn't brought Jaime in but willing to do what he could to help them both. He looked at Jaime's ear as thoroughly as he was able (without most of his instruments) and couldn't find anything wrong. When he was finished, he and Steve headed out to the back porch, beers in hand, while Jaime went to lie down.

''I want Michael replaced. Immediately,'' Steve said without preamble.

Rudy frowned. ''Care to tell me why?''

''Not really. I just don't trust him.''

''Steve, I can get another doctor in here but I think the time for this jealous streak of yours is long past. Michael has more than proven himself - and if Jaime _is _having some sort of new problem, do you really want to wait days for a different neuro specialist to get here and familiarize himself with her case before he can even begin to help her?''

Steve drank his entire beer in one long pull - and crushed the can into a tiny, tinny ball. Rudy eyed his friend with grave concern. He knew Oscar was flying back out tonight to pay Jaime a visit first thing in the morning...and Steve wasn't going to like what the OSI Chief had to say.

* * *

''She's not going; it's out of the question,'' Steve told Oscar. This time, their boss was asking the impossible. He expected Steve to let Jaime go on a multi-day mission...in a foreign country...with _Michael_. He wasn't sure he trusted the doctor to construct a paper airplane...much less carry out complicated orders with Jaime's safety hanging in the balance if things should go wrong.

''Steve, I can do this,'' Jaime tried to affirm.

''I know _you_ can - but a mission...with _him_? No. Oscar - send me with her instead.''

''Pal, you know I would, if I could. Michael is OSI-trained and we need someone who can pass himself off as a top nuclear scientist -''

''Give me an hour or two...and I'll fake it,'' Steve insisted.

''Michael won't have to 'fake it','' Oscar explained. ''And we need Jaime to go with him for her listening capabilities.''

''What about her headaches?''

''Sitting right here,'' Jaime reminded them both, ''and fully capable of speaking - and deciding - for myself. Rudy and Michael both said they couldn't find anything wrong with me. And Steve, Oscar's right; there's a better chance for success with someone who isn't bluffing their way through...and Michael can take care of any problems I might have. We'll be fine...home again in a couple of days.'' Jaime cupped Steve's face gently in the palms of her hands, running her fingertips along his rugged cheekbones and brushing across his lips (as if trying to memorize his face). She smiled warmly...and kissed him. ''Please don't worry.''

Two hours later, after meeting together with Oscar to go over plans and strategies, Jaime and Michael were on a transport plane bound for Trinidad. They'd be posing as a top nuclear scientist and his assistant/wife, with secrets to sell to the highest bidder. The OSI was holding the _real_ scientist and his wife in custody, so they could be impersonated. Jaime dozed lightly for part of the journey and Michael watched her every second while she slept. This was really more than he could've dared hope for! Of course, during the day he would need to stay focused on the task at hand - they both would - in order to bring down the ring that was trafficking US government information all around the globe. Instead of the nuclear secrets they were expecting to purchase, they'd be sold false information - and arrested. But at night, when Jaime and Michael went back to the hotel, they would be sharing a room. Oscar had been very quick to point out to Steve that the room had _two _beds...but Michael smiled as he watched Jaime doze on the plane. It couldn't have been more perfect if he'd planned it this way.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jaime unpacked with her back to Michael...until he came up behind her with a gentle touch on her shoulder. ''We'll have to _act _like husband and wife, if we want to pull this off,'' he said, leaning in close.

Jaime took a step away from her doctor - and turned to face him. ''I know. But it's only in the daytime - when we're out there. Not here. And it's only for the assignment. There is no 'us', Michael. There can't be.''

''I know. Should we practice?'' Michael suggested.

''I think we've had too much 'practice' already.''

* * *

Back home, drink in hand, Steve was thinking exactly the same thing. He pictured what Jaime had told him that Michael had said, combined with what he himself had witnessed - and he didn't like what he was seeing in his head.

Mark had made arrangements for his assistants to keep covering his practice in DC; he was going to be needed here for now. He found Steve brooding morosely as he poured yet another drink...and he noted that the ice in Steve's glass was nearly melted, forcing him to add more. It wasn't his second drink. ''How many is that?'' he asked gently.

''Three or four,'' Steve admitted.

''Think that's a good idea?''

''Can't hurt.''

_Yes...yes it could_, Mark thought to himself. ''Self-medicating now?''

''Yup.''

''You could do that; in the morning, the problem is still there though. How about talking it out, instead?''

''That'll just make me angrier,'' Steve grumbled. ''And you don't need to hear what I'm thinking right now.''

''Try me.''

''Which part do you wanna hear?'' Steve slurred. ''The part where the 'good doctor' made a pass at my wife before we left the hospital last week...or the part where he's got her alone in a hotel room right now?''

* * *

Michael poured them each a drink, 'just to calm a mild case of the nerves'. He handed Jaime the glass and couldn't help watching her as she sipped. _Lord, what a beautiful woman_, he thought. His mind fed him a section of the Hippocratic Oath: _Into whatever houses I enter, I will go into them for the benefit of the sick, and will abstain from every voluntary act of mischief and corruption; and, further from the seduction of females..._and then another: _**to do good or to do no harm**__..._. Had he crossed those boundaries? Yes; he had to admit that he had. And his thoughts were crossing them even further.

It was getting late and they had to get an early start in the morning. Jaime was getting drowsy and went into the bathroom to change into her nightgown and robe. She felt Michael's eyes on her but chose to ignore this as she pulled back the covers.

''I should check your ear - and your reflexes - before you go to sleep,'' Michael told her. She might need split-second reactions; could her body physically handle it? He would make sure...

* * *

They entered the room with an arm around each other's waists, playing their parts to the hilt. As Oscar had known he would be, Michael was perfect in his role. The 'buyers' were lapping it up...and Michael himself was savoring the ability to hold Jaime again, even as they were carrying out their assigned mission. When they returned to the hotel room that night, he had trouble shutting off _those _thoughts...and found his dreams to be even more detailed - and more explicit - than they had ever been before.

On the second day, Jaime and Michael did an intricate dance around the sale of what their buyers thought were the most highly classified batch of government secrets regarding nuclear facilities in the Pacific Southwest. They were trying to drive the price higher - to get their quarries to actually _bid_- and they succeeded. The 'nuclear scientist' kissed his 'wife' and they returned to their hotel. One more day should wrap it up with a neat red ribbon on top, Jaime thought to herself...then she grabbed Michael's arm as they stepped into the hotel room, pulling him back out into the hallway and closing the door.

''We're _bugged_,'' she told him. ''I can find it...but I'll need a few minutes.''

Michael nodded. ''In the meantime, maybe we should give them a bit of a show,'' he suggested. ''If they have the least bit of a doubt, we need to convince them that we're really a couple - that we're married.''

''We'll _talk_ our way through it,'' Jaime agreed. _Just keep your hands off of me_, she finished in her head. Together, they entered the (bugged) room.

''We'll be rich soon,'' Jaime told her 'husband'. ''Then this'll all have been worth it.'' She kept her distance from Michael as she used her ear to scour the room for the listening device's location.

''I think we deserve to celebrate,'' Michael told her in a voice that positively oozed what he'd dreamed about the night before. He stepped closer to Jaime, leading her toward the bed. They sat down near each other, making sure the bug would pick up the sound of the bed springs. Jaime moaned convincingly...and then nodded toward the bedside lamp; she had found the bug. After a few more assorted noises and a little bouncing to make the device pick up the sound of the bed springs again (to let their buyers know that they were, indeed, 'husband and wife'), Jaime reached into the lampshade, located the planted device...and crushed it...then moved away from Michael to sit on her own bed.

She didn't much care for the look in his eyes.

* * *

Mark watched Steve pace the living room yet again, with his fourth drink in his hand (that Mark had seen him pour). ''You'll wear a path in the carpet,'' he said quietly.

''Yeah...and?''

''And maybe you should sit down, stop self-medicating - and talk to me.''

''Nothin' to say,'' Steve slurred. ''My wife spent the day in the arms of another man - one who's already made more than one pass at her - and now they're probably alone in a hotel room together. What more can I possibly say? 'Cept that if he hurts her...he's gonna regret it.''


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

''Your ear is obviously working just fine,'' Michael noted, slipping back into 'doctor' mode (at least temporarily). ''Any headaches today?''

Jaime shook her head. ''None - not even a little one.''

''Good.'' He got up and mixed them each a drink. ''I'll check you over anyhow; we've got a big day tomorrow.''

''And then we get to go _home_,'' Jaime said with a smile.

Michael decided the smile was at least as much for him as it was for her thought of going home to Steve. They'd done well together, exactly as he'd known they would. He set his drink on the nightstand and held up one finger, gazing into Jaime's eyes as he did so. He had to test her responses - both to the test and to _him_. ''You know the drill by now,'' he told her.

Jaime obediently followed his moving finger from side to side then up and down, solely with her eyes. She took another sip of her drink...and giggled. ''You hand me...this...and next you'll want me to walk a straight line.''

''We can skip that part; you didn't seem off-balance today. I'll just take a quick look at your ear and then we can both get some rest.'' Michael crossed the space between them to sit next to Jaime on her bed, peering into her ear with an otoscope. His free arm drifted behind her back, steadying her for the exam. Jaime held her head high, without flinching, so he could get this _done_...and she could sleep. The day's work had taken more out of her than she'd expected - and she was suddenly very tired.

* * *

It was 1am and Steve was still awake...and still drinking. Mark had visited again this night and expressed his concern but with a recalcitrant patient who didn't want to talk to him, there was little he could do.

Steve told himself that Jaime should be perfectly safe. She was with her _doctor_, for God's sake! Oscar had made a logical choice. If something went wrong while they were down there, Michael was the best person to have at Jaime's side, to be able to diagnose and fix the problem. Still, Steve couldn't overlook the fact that she was down there with _Michael_...who was - first and foremost - a man. (A man who wanted Steve's wife!) _You're being irrational_, Steve knew Mark would tell him. Was he? He just didn't know anymore...so he poured himself yet another drink, trying to numb the images from his mind.

* * *

In the very early hours of the morning, it all went terribly wrong. Jaime and Michael were both sound asleep when the hotel room door burst open and rough hands pulled them from their beds - with a gun firmly pressed to each of their heads. They were completely disoriented by the sudden intrusion! Michael was shoved toward the dresser, where his briefcase was sitting.

''You will get your file - and then you'll both come with us,'' one of the thugs commanded.

Michael reached into his briefcase and extracted the file, managing to brush his finger across the hidden 'panic' alarm as he did so. He was yanked away, forced to leave the briefcase itself (with its tracking device inside) behind.

* * *

The knock on his front door - and even the insistent ringing of the doorbell - failed to rouse Steve so Oscar was forced to use his key. He was dismayed by what he found. The news he'd brought was devastating enough...and now he found Steve passed out on the living room sofa, a half-empty martini glass still in his hand. Plans would have to be changed - and _quickly_. Oscar went into the kitchen and dialed Russ, telling him to be at Edwards in an hour, then headed back to wake his friend and deliver the bad news.

''Steve!'' Oscar said urgently, shaking his shoulder. Finally Steve woke and groggily sat up...reaching for his glass. ''I think you've had enough of that, Pal.''

''Oscar, why are you in my living room at...'' he peered over at the clock, ''2:30 in the morning?''

''I got a phone call from our back-up team in Trinidad,'' Oscar told him. ''There's been a problem.''

Steve forced himself to as full a level of alertness as he could manage (which in his state, wasn't saying much). ''Jaime?'' he asked. ''What happened?''

''One of them - Michael or Jaime - pressed the panic button. Our back-up team found the briefcase...still at the hotel. And Jaime and Michael...are gone,'' he finished grimly.

''I've gotta go after them!'' Steve announced.

''Pal, I'm sorry. I came here intending to send you in...but I can't. Not when you're in that state.''

''Oscar, I'd be sober by the time I got there!''

''I can't have one of my operatives 'sleeping it off' on the transport plane. I can't take the chance that you might not have all of your faculties when you get there, so -''

''Oscar, Jaime needs me!''

''I'm sorry, Pal. I'm sending Russ in your place.''

''Oscar, please! This is _Jaime _we're talking about!'' Steve grabbed Oscar's shirt collar then thought better of it and let him go. ''Look,'' he pleaded, ''send Russ with me to 'baby-sit' - or send freaking Jack Hansen with us both for all I care - but I'm getting on a plane and I'm going to Trinidad! I can either go with the cavalry or on my own. Your choice. But I'm going after my wife!''


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jaime and Michael were handcuffed together - her right to his left - in the backseat of the tiny compact. They were only vaguely conscious (courtesy of chloroform) as the car bumped along the narrow, unpaved road. The file had been taken from him while he'd been completely 'out'...and Michael assumed they were now being driven somewhere solely to be executed. Jaime wasn't quite awake enough yet for coherent thought, but he felt her fingers entwine with his as she slowly came to...and he squeezed her hand.

Jaime squeezed back, in part for comfort but also to let him know that she was trying to come up with a plan...if only her brain wasn't so foggy! The operative in her knew that if their captors meant to kill them, they could just force them out of the car on this narrow, winding road - and out over what looked like a cliff, directly to her left. (A sort of 'lovers leap', she thought ironically). The idle thought crossed her mind as to what would happen if a car rounded any one of these curves from the other direction...but she could only hope they wouldn't find out the hard way. Then the man in the front passenger seat turned around, a dart struck her...and she was no longer worried (or thinking) about anything at all.

* * *

Russ glanced over at Steve and wondered if he should be feeding him mugs of strong, black coffee - or telling him to go to sleep. Drunk and worried half out of his mind was _not_ a good combination, especially in someone who could punch a hole in the side of the transport plane if he got it into his head to do that (and temporarily forgot where he was). Quietly, he handed his friend a sandwich, coffee...and two aspirin, hoping there'd be no hangover to contend with once they were on terra firma in Trinidad.

* * *

The gunman had turned around after firing off the second of two darts, satisfied he'd taken care of their prisoners for the time being - which, of course, he had. But Michael knew that since their captors were unaware of Jaime's bionics, if she received a full dose from that dart it would quite possibly kill her. He leaned over (under the guise of hugging his 'wife') and plucked the dart from where it had pierced Jaime's side, dropping it to the floor of the car. Michael knew the fluffy robe she wore had also tempered some of the dart's effects (as it hadn't been able to penetrate as deeply) but Jaime was still out cold. And a few seconds later, when he'd barely returned to his own half of the backseat, so was he.

When Michael woke again, he and Jaime were in some sort of a basement...more of a root cellar, really, as the floor was just packed dirt and the ceiling only about 5 feet above them. It was very, very small, almost _tomb-like_...and at first glance, Jaime looked like she was dead. Her face was pale and her lips were nearly white. Had they been 'shot' a third time? Was she...gone?

They were still handcuffed together (his left to her right), so Michael rolled onto his left side, enabling him to reach Jaime's carotid artery with his free hand. He found that she had a pulse...but her breathing was far too shallow. She wasn't getting enough oxygen. It was precisely what he'd feared - too large of a dose of tranquilizer for her body to handle. He caressed her cheek lightly (as though apologizing for what he was about to do) and then slapped her - not too hard, but hard enough. Jaime woke sputtering, struggling...and breathing almost normally again.

''Sorry about that,'' Michael told her, very softly.

Jaime looked around with frightened, confused eyes and then her operative training kicked in. _You're not dead...until you're dead. Don't go there without a fight. _She 'shushed' Michael and strained to listen for any sign of what their captors might be saying or doing upstairs. (She just wished she wasn't so groggy!) He understood and propped her into a sitting position, so she could hopefully hear more easily than with her head back against the hard dirt floor. Michael was alarmed to feel Jaime's body begin to quiver - and then she suddenly collapsed against him, her left hand clutching her head in nearly intolerable pain.

Michael knew it was past the time they should've been finished and on a plane back to the States. Had their back-up team found any clues in the hotel room? Had Oscar sent anyone to help...and would those forces combined be enough to find them in time?

* * *

Steve stepped off the transport plane (true to his word) sober...but with a 'killer' headache of his own. He squinted painfully as the bright sun reflected off the concrete landing strip and donned a pair of dark sunglasses until the latest dose of aspirin could kick in. Russ eyed him curiously, wondering if he really _was _alright - until they reached the hotel where Michael and Jaime had been staying and Steve 'coaxed' a location out of the lone desk clerk within minutes. The rental car Oscar had arranged for was waiting in the hotel parking lot and very soon they were on their way, directions in hand thanks to the clerk who hadn't been allowed ice for his lip or the back of his head until he'd given them what they needed.

In the traffic common to this time of day (the clerk had told them), they were just over an hour away.

* * *

It was over almost as suddenly as it had begun; the agonizing pain was gone and Jaime fell weakly across Michael's chest, temporarily sapped of the energy she'd managed to muster - and sending them both sprawling to the floor. Michael wrapped his unrestrained arm around Jaime, keeping her against him and cushioning her from slamming into the dirt. She was lying halfway on top of him and Michael could feel the chain of the handcuffs jiggling as Jaime twined her fingers in the links, trying to break them. She met Michael's gaze, her own eyes dark with worry. For the moment, anyhow, she was either still too drugged or too badly weakened from whatever was happening to her to be able to break their bonds. Michael's free hand reached up and touched her hair. He was now thoroughly convinced they were going to die.

''I have to tell you something, in case we don't get out of here,'' he began.

''Don't, Michael. We can't think like that! We have to -''

''I love you, Jaime.''


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

''We're _not _gonna die down here, Michael!'' Jaime insisted, rolling off of him before he could pull her any closer.

But he wasn't finished. He rolled onto his side, his free arm snaking over her now as he leaned in for a kiss. Still very groggy (and not quite 'in her own head'), Jaime began kissing him back...then stopped abruptly, pushing him off. ''Try that again and we'll find out if I have a mean left hook,'' she promised...and then her body stiffened. ''I...hear something!'' she whispered, immediately curling up as a fresh wave of pain overtook her.

''What was it? Can you tell me?''

''They...they're coming...''

Indeed, they were: four of them, all brandishing guns. ''Well, Doctor Bennett,'' the one in front sneered, ''it seems that file of yours contains certain...shall we say..._inaccuracies_.''

''I don't know what to tell you,'' Michael bluffed, ''that's the file I -''

''That you fabricated? You see, _Doctor_, we were already in possession of certain 'test facts' that we were able to compare to your information. And none of it matches. None!'' He nodded to two of the gunmen, who moved to where Jaime and Michael were lying and unfastened the handcuffs...then pulled Jaime up roughly by her arms. She thought about kicking out, trying to fight them off, but the pain in her head was so intense that she could barely see. One man swung his arm up to hit her in the face with the barrel of his gun, then she was thrown _hard _into the corner.

Michael banged his own head on the ceiling, standing up and forgetting to duck. ''Leave her out of this!'' he growled. He started toward Jaime, to try and shield her...but was stopped by a gun pointed directly at her head.

''Sit down, Doctor - if you want your wife to live,'' the leader insisted. A notepad and pen were tossed at Michael's feet. ''I suggest you start writing - and the _real_information this time. You can start with the launch codes.''

''I don't have those in my head!'' Michael insisted. ''That's what we keep files for!''

''Wrong answer!'' the leader snarled. He turned to the two men still crouched near Jaime. ''_Hurt her_!'' One of the men twisted Jaime's left arm painfully behind her back, forcing her up to her knees - where the other hit her in the stomach. Her arm was released and she fell face first to the ground. She had _not_ cried out in pain - and Michael suspected it was because the pain in her head was still worse than anything they were doing to her. He prayed to himself that enough of the tranquilizer dart's effects remained in her system to give her at least some relief...but it didn't look that way.

Slowly, trying to buy any time that he could, Michael reached for the pen. Jaime turned her head to the side, coughing as she tried to clear dirt from her nose and mouth. One of the men forced her face down again, holding her that way with a painful grip on the back of her neck.

''Stop it!'' Michael insisted. ''She'll choke!''

''Start writing then,'' the leader told him.

Michael knew enough about launch code sequences to be able to fake his way through a series of them, writing random letters and numbers on the pad of paper until he thought he had enough. He could only hope the launch codes weren't part of the 'test facts' already in their possession. Meanwhile (since he was writing), Jaime had been allowed to sit up and was leaning in the corner, her body alarmingly limp - but her eyes were open. Michael thought she looked dazed...and an angry multi-colored bruise was already beginning to show where she'd been struck by the gun barrel. Michael tore the page from the notebook and offered it up to the leader.

''There are more than this.''

''Let her go and I'll give you the rest,'' Michael said firmly.

''I'm not an idiot - but perhaps you are!'' With one glance to the corner as a signal, both men hit Jaime again - one from each side - and this time they forced her to cry out...just before she mercifully faded from consciousness. Her bathrobe had fallen open and although her nightgown was a modest one (down past her knees), Michael could see all four men leering at her limp, prone body...and it turned his stomach.

* * *

''Drive faster,'' Steve told Russ. He and Jaime had a _connection _that was screaming at him loud and clear. She was in trouble - terrible, desperate trouble. ''You gave the other teams the address?'' he asked again.

''You heard me give them the instructions - and the address,'' Russ reminded him. They rode in tense silence for another few minutes and then Russ pulled the car over. ''Should be through those trees and just the other side of the hill,'' he announced. Steve started to get out of the car. ''Steve, we need to wait for back-up,'' Russ told him.

''Maybe you do - but Jaime's up there and she needs help! Send back-up after me when they get here.''

''Wait! If you go storming in there, you have no idea how many men might be holed up, holding Jaime and Michael. You'll get them both _killed_.''

Steve sighed...and got back in the car. Fortunately, two more cars skidded to a stop behind them within minutes and everyone made their way toward the little house - entering from both the front and back with their guns drawn.

The house appeared empty. (Had they been fooled by the hotel clerk? Fed false information?) Steve's heart sank...and then they heard a woman cry out in pain from somewhere beneath them. ''That's Jaime!'' Steve exclaimed. It took them a few moments to find the door to the root cellar and then a flood of OSI agents went storming down the stairs...with Steve in the lead.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Michael was sitting in the middle of the the tomb-like little cellar looking distraught - and over in the corner, Steve saw..._Jaime_. She had been worked over - badly beaten. There was a gunman to either side of her but in the split-second of surprise when they stormed down the stairs, Steve took out one and Russ took out the other.

''Drop your weapons,'' Russ ordered the remaining two. ''Try anything stupid and you're next.'' The last two gunmen complied and the back-up team cuffed them and took them upstairs as Steve rushed to his wife's side.

Jaime was only (barely) semi-conscious...and Steve's heart broke as he tenderly took her in his arms. Her face was bruised and swollen and there were angry-looking bruises on her arm where she'd been so roughly manhandled. ''Let me take a look before you move her,'' Michael requested. Steve laid his wife back down as gently as possible, cushioning her head with the bathrobe. He moved aside to let Michael examine her. Both men (and Russ) were very quiet, thrown by the extent of what had been done to her.

''No broken bones,'' Michael finally noted, ''except possibly some ribs. Jaime...can you hear me?'' Jaime didn't answer him as she faded in and out of consciousness. ''She's also been drugged,'' he told Steve. ''Let's get her out of here - and on a plane home.''

* * *

They laid Jaime flat-out on a makeshift stretcher in the back of the transport plane. There were some rudimentary medical supplies aboard, including medications. After giving her a dose of her usual blood thinner, Michael thought it was best to put Jaime out for the flight home and (for now) Steve deferred to his judgment. Even with the bad blood Steve felt toward his rival, he was glad Michael was there - thankful that Jaime had a doctor looking after her. Michael didn't mention the recurrence of Jaime's headaches to Steve, reasoning he had enough to worry about and the pain seemed to have passed while they were still in the basement. He would order another MRI when they got home – and make sure to consult with Rudy when the results were ready.

Back at National Medical, Oscar and Mark sat with Rudy in his office, waiting for word from Trinidad. When it finally came, it wasn't what they'd been hoping to hear. Everyone was on their way back...but Jaime had been injured. Oscar spoke with Russ and found out that Steve had been able to perform admirably in spite of what he suspected was a killer hangover. Oscar had already filled in his cohorts on the condition in which he'd found Steve, and how Steve had badgered his way into the rescue mission. One more thing they'd be dealing with when the plane touched down at home.

* * *

Rudy's office was rather crowded while Michael took Jaime for another MRI. Russ and Steve were debriefed with Rudy and Mark sitting in. ''You did good, Pal,'' Oscar told him. ''I was worried about you.''

''Yeah; told you I'd be fine.'' Steve didn't really want to discuss it in front of the others.

But Oscar _did_. ''Steve, I don't want to need you for a mission and find you in that shape – _ever again_!''

''Can we talk about this later?'' Steve requested.

''No; let's talk about it now,'' Mark told him. ''It needs to stop before it develops into a problem you can't control anymore.''

''He's right, Steve,'' Rudy agreed.

''So...you told him?'' Steve deduced. Mark had known, of course - but who had filled Rudy in?

''I'm your doctor,'' Rudy said firmly. ''They were right to tell me.''

''Jaime's down the hall in that...machine,'' Steve said in a pain-filled voice. ''She was _beaten_...nearly unconscious...when I found her. Right now, she's all that matters.''

''Like I told you before,'' Mark put in, ''_**you **_matter too.''

''I don't think I need the three of you triple-teaming,'' Steve argued. ''It won't happen again, alright?''

''It _can't_,'' Oscar insisted. ''What if they'd been closer than 7 or 8 hours away and needed Rescue? Or what if I had a matter of National Security to handle? I need to be able to count on you; what you did was irresponsible and completely unacceptable.''

Steve stood up. ''I've already agreed with you. There's really nothing more to say - so if you're done with our actual debriefing, I think I'll head down to the waiting room for news about Jaime.''

Oscar stood in the doorway with Mark, blocking his exit. ''The results will get here first,'' Mark told him. ''And you need to hear this.''

''I need to be with my wife!''

''You can see her as soon as Michael's finished,'' Rudy promised. ''I checked her over too - and ordered x-rays of her arm and her ribs. Just to be safe.''

''Are you admitting her?'' Steve asked.

''Overnight, yes. We'll see how she is in the morning. But you're changing the subject.''

''Because the other subject is closed,'' Steve told everyone. ''I'm done talking about it. It won't happen again...so let it go, please.''

Rudy eyed him closely, hoping he was telling the truth...then suddenly the older doctor opened his eyes wide with pain of his own, brought one hand over his chest...and collapsed forward onto his desk.

Mark sprang into action, calling for emergency personnel and the cardio-vascular team, hoping they were in the facility because Rudy needed them NOW.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Michael found them first (before Rudy's own doctor could brief them), in the little waiting room outside the ICU. ''Rudy's stable,'' he announced. ''It was another 'incident' - not a full-fledged infarction - but it was his third and we need to consider that the next one would likely be more than an 'incident'. Less stress, less _work _and more rest if we want to keep him with us.''

''I'll see to it,'' Oscar promised...and the others nodded. They would _all _see to it.

''Where's Jaime?'' Steve asked. ''She's not still in that tube...is she?''

''Of course not. She's up in her room on the Third Floor. I'm on my way to check on her, now that Rudy's cardiologist is with him. Steve, she'll be awake before Rudy will, if you'd like to come up there with me.''

Steve nodded. ''I'll be right up.'' He watched the young doctor disappear down the hall...then for a few moments, lost himself in thought. It seemed mighty convenient (to Steve) that Rudy had experienced another 'incident' at precisely the time Jaime needed a doctor's care. But that sounded too paranoid to even think about, much less give actual voice to! Besides, Michael had no control over Jaime getting hurt on that mission. Her headaches had all but disappeared again before they'd been sent to Trinidad - and he certainly wouldn't have done something to her over there that would've placed the entire mission (himself included) in jeopardy...would he? Steve chided himself for being ridiculous, waited a few more minutes to see if Rudy's cardiologist would emerge (he did not) and then headed upstairs to be with his wife.

* * *

''I'm sorry,'' Steve heard Michael tell Jaime as he rounded the doorway into his wife's room.

''What are you apologizing to _my wife _for?'' Steve asked, trying to keep his voice level. ''What did you do to her this time?''

''Steve...'' Jaime chided weakly.

''I'm sorry I messed up on the mission,'' Michael said smoothly, his back still to Steve as he stared into Jaime's eyes. ''You could've been killed.''

''We both...could've...and it wasn't your fault.'' Jaime told him.

Michael stepped away from the bed and nodded deferentially to Steve. ''No broken bones - just some badly bruised ribs. You can take her home in the morning.''

''And the MRI?'' Steve wondered.

''Same as the first two; no sign of any abnormalities. Nothing to account for the headaches she was having before the mission.'' Michael turned to Jaime. ''I'll be back later,'' he told her, then slipped quickly from the room to give her some much-needed time with Steve.

''I was so worried about you,'' Steve told Jaime.

''I was...kinda worried too,'' she admitted. ''Michael did a great job...he really did. That part...didn't worry me. But...if you hadn't gotten there when you did...''

Steve didn't tell her that he'd almost had to charter his own plane to get to her, that Oscar had initially refused to let him go on the 'official' team. And Jaime didn't mention what (she knew) Michael had really been apologizing for. (Michael'd believed they were both about to die when he'd said _I love you_...and when he'd...done what he'd done. There was no point in igniting a firestorm over it now.)

* * *

Once he knew Rudy was out of immediate danger and he'd tended to his own patient, Michael sat down for a debriefing. He answered every one of Russ and Oscar's questions to the best of his ability and when they were finally done, he stood to go. ''One more thing,'' Oscar told him, ''since there were injuries involved, under our new policy this is termed a 'traumatic incident' and Mark Conrad is here and available - so we'd like you to meet with him.''

''Right now?'' Michael asked.

''Right now. It shouldn't take more than an hour; possibly even less.''

''Alright,'' Michael sighed.

''We'll go get him,'' Russ told the young doctor.

''Did he buy it?'' Mark wondered when they found him.

''That doesn't really matter. I told him he's meeting with you - and he's going to meet with you,'' Oscar announced. ''He's waiting in his office.''

''So tell me how things went for you,'' Mark began, striding into the office and closing the door, ''out there in 'the field'.''

''It all went fine,'' Michael responded. ''No problems - until we got pulled from our beds in the middle of the night by men with guns. _That _was a bit of a problem,'' he added ironically.

''Scary stuff,'' Mark empathized.

''Jaime's a trained operative. I'd imagine she's used to things like that. Even getting hurt, as awful as it was, goes with the territory, I suppose. But I'm _not _an operative and I've only had the most basic of OSI training modules. Seeing them treat her that way...it just turned my stomach.''

''Probably would've turned Steve's stomach too - or even Oscar's,'' Mark noted, ''to see a woman getting treated that roughly.''

''Yeah. Jaime handled it as well as she could...as well as anyone could...but it was terrible, nasty stuff,'' Michael concluded.

Mark would meet again with Michael, if needed, to talk about these experiences...but right now, he had to get to the real _true _reason he'd been asked to speak with his younger cohort. ''Before that happened, the first two nights - and days - you were down there, how was it for you, sharing a hotel room with Jaime? Any difficulties?''

''None. We were there to do a job together; nothing more. Attention to anything other than our work could've been fatal - for both of us.''

Mark spoke with Michael for very nearly the full hour and became fully convinced that nothing untoward had happened in that hotel room. Steve (and Oscar) had nothing to worry about.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

''Steve...I can get my own cup of coffee!'' Jaime called into the kitchen. ''I can even make a new pot - and it wouldn't be too strenuous!''

Steve returned to the living room, where he'd propped Jaime up with their plushest pillows (and a foot rest under her feet) and handed her the mug. ''I know you _could_,'' he said, grinning at her. ''But how often do I get to spoil my wife like this?''

''When she's just come home from the hospital?'' Jaime mused. ''I think...I've lost count.''

''Anyhow, I _love _spoiling you - so quit complaining!'' Steve leaned in, kissed her - and ran a gentle hand along the bruises on her face. ''How do you feel?''

''You aren't allowed to ask that again for at least 10 more minutes,'' she said (reminding him of a previous agreement).

''Alright; then how about if I run you a nice, warm bubble bath?''

''Steve -''

''Our agreement said nothing about spoiling you.'' He headed into the bathroom and poured two capfuls of Jaime's favorite Vanilla/Brown Sugar bath creme under the warm, running water. ''I'm glad those headaches are gone, at least,'' Steve remarked, helping her into the tub. He tried not to let Jaime see him flinch at the sight of the angry purple marks around her middle.

''Yeah; they were awful,'' Jaime agreed. ''Almost got us killed in that cellar.''

_What? _Steve looked at her closely. ''Sweetheart, you had headaches in Trinidad?''

''Just on the last morning. It was the worst one yet - and that was why I couldn't fight them off.''

Steve's fists clenched almost automatically...and he took a few deep breaths but they remained clenched. He knew that after Jaime's bath, when he'd helped her into bed and given her the prescribed meds, he'd be having another little chat with Michael.

* * *

Michael hadn't slept well. His dreams of Jaime and the life he still hoped they'd have together someday were interspersed with nightmares about what had happened in that little cellar/tomb. It hadn't helped that he'd spent the night on his office sofa again - but Rudy was slowly improving and Jaime had gone home so he hoped that tonight he would be able to sleep better in his own bed. He poured another cup of coffee and took a fourth or fifth look at Jaime's MRI results. He had just turned on the light box when his office door flew open.

''We need to talk, Marchetti!'' Steve announced. ''Oh - I mean _Doctor_!''

Michael froze. What, exactly, had Jaime told him? ''Good morning, Steve,'' he said smoothly, trying to cover. ''How is Jaime doing at home? There haven't been any more problems...have there?''

Steve turned...and closed the office door. ''Let's talk about the other morning, down in that cellar,'' he said in a voice that oozed with quiet anger and implied threats.

''Steve, I don't know what Jaime told you, but -''

''She told me just enough; I want a different doctor here to treat her by tonight. And I want you gone.''

''Look,'' Michael began slowly, ''when we were down in that cellar, I thought we were about to be killed...or I never would've touched her.''

''You told me she didn't have those headaches while..._what did you say_?'' It had taken a moment to sink in, past what he'd come here already seething about. ''You..._touched _her...how?''

Michael had inadvertently walked right into this one - and there was no way to cover it now. ''Steve, listen...I was out of line, I know that. And I'm sorry -''

''What did you do to her?''

''She set me straight right away,'' Michael insisted. ''Steve, she's very good at what she does; she knew we'd get out of there somehow. I thought we were going to die...''

''_What. Did. You. Do?_'' Steve repeated. He strode over to where Michael stood by the light box and raised him in the air. ''I won't ask you again.''

''I...kissed her,'' Michael admitted.

''You son of a -'' Steve drew back his fist. ''Give me one good reason not to knock you straight up to Skylab!''

''I know we had an agreement, you and I - and that agreement still stands,'' Michael told him. ''This was a bad situation - really bad - and -''

''Waiting for that one good reason, Marchetti!''

''Look,'' Michael tried, ''I can get another neurologist in here to treat your wife. And I will. But he'll need me here to consult on her history. And until someone can get here, with Rudy laid up, I'm the only doctor Jaime has, if anything should go wrong.''

''And what's going to go wrong?'' Steve demanded. ''Why don't you tell me...since you seem to already know. You're the one causing Jaime's headaches...aren't you?'' he realized. (Maybe his suspicions weren't that irrational, after all!) ''_What did you do to her?_''

''That's ridiculous,'' Michael told him. ''I'm a _doctor_...''

''Wrong answer!'' Steve growled. He drew back his left fist but thought better of it and instead slammed his rival into the lightbox, lightly enough not to break the equipment...but hard enough to make him _feel _it.

Michael shook his head Now that it was out in the open - or almost - he had to get a 'dig' in. ''I think you'd better talk to your wife,'' he told Steve with a slight smirk, ''because she kissed me back.''

This time, the light box shattered.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Steve set Michael back on his feet. (If he could, he'd have been breathing fire.) ''Consider yourself lucky you're not in orbit,'' he snarled, turning and leaving the office - and the building. Michael didn't call Security right away - he was too stunned - but Russ happened upon him while the young doctor was still brushing himself off and _he _put out the call...along with keying up his datacom. ''Oscar, I'm in Michael's office,'' Russ transmitted. ''We need you down here.''

Oscar looked at the shattered light box and (like Russ) assessed the situation in an instant. ''Steve did this?'' he asked (already knowing the answer). Michael nodded. ''Assault and Battery - with a deadly weapon, if we wanted to go that far,'' Oscar noted. ''Destruction of Government Property...''

''Don't...press...charges.'' Michael gasped. ''This was just...between us.''

But Oscar was already out the door and on his way to find Steve. He began by searching the hospital with the teams from Security.

* * *

Steve checked on Jaime first (she was still sound asleep) then closed the bedroom door and sat down in the living room...with a drink in his hand. He was well on his way to a good, angry funk when Oscar found him. This time, the OSI Chief didn't bother to knock. Steve looked up at the sudden intrusion and set his glass on the coffee table. ''Not even tipsy yet...'' Steve grumbled, ''but give me another five minutes and I will be.''

Oscar shook his head sadly and dumped the martini in the kitchen sink before sitting down across from Steve. ''You don't know how close I am to arresting you right now.''

''I didn't hit him. I _should_ have...but I didn't,'' Steve said with a scowl. ''Oscar, if anyone needs to be brought up on charges...that man is no doctor. Not anymore. Or...he shouldn't be! He's _dangerous_!''

''He saved your life, Pal,'' Oscar reminded him quietly. ''Don't you think you've gone overboard here? I had Mark Conrad talk to Michael last night because I knew you'd have questions and -''

''Questions? I don't have _questions_, Oscar - I have _facts_! Would you like to hear them?''

''Steve, nothing happened in that hotel room.''

''No - but plenty happened in the cellar. Marchetti _kissed my wife_! Did he bother to mention that? He kissed her _again_- after assuring me it was all over!'' Steve's voice was beginning to rise, along with his temper. ''Oh, he gave me a song and dance about how he thought they were going to die, but -''

''He probably did,'' Oscar interrupted. ''People can do strange, out of character things in a situation like that. And you know it.''

''I don't care if he thought the entire damn world was ending! Because he had the nerve to try and tell me that _Jaime kissed him back_!''

''Where is Jaime?'' Oscar asked, very softly (trying to get Steve to lower his own voice a few 100 decibels).

''Bedroom. Asleep. Michael gave her some pain pills. Although I should probably have those checked because with everything else he's pulled, it wouldn't surprise me if he tried to poison her next!''

''Steve, you're being irrational.''

''Irrational? I'll tell you what's irrational! Strange how Jaime's headaches stopped while they were in Trinidad together - right up until the last day, right around the time she _should _have been on a transport plane home but wound up in a cellar instead, fighting for her life! If they'd have been on that plane, it would've hit her just in time for him to don the white hat, swoop in on his white horse and save the day again!''

''Steve, I really don't think -''

''Just let that sink in before you say anything!'' Steve insisted. ''Think about the timing. Pretty convenient. Or...it would've been. If Rudy wasn't in the ICU, I'd demand -''

The bedroom door opened...and Jaime stood in the doorway, her eyes wide. ''Rudy's...in the ICU? What happened?'' She took a couple of steps toward her husband and Oscar...and sank to her knees.

* * *

''I've phoned for another neurologist - _as requested_- but it'll be late tonight before he gets here,'' Michael announced. ''We had to find someone with a Level Six clearance to treat her. Now, you can wait for him if you want to...''

''Go in there and take care of Jaime, Michael,'' a voice said - a voice that was _not _her husband's.

Steve turned to glare at Mark. ''What gives you the right?''

''We need to talk,'' Mark told him. ''Let's go in my office.''

''If _he's_ going in there with Jaime - which, by the way, I have _not _okay'ed - I'll be right here, watching every move he makes!'' Steve growled.

''Michael, go on in,'' Mark repeated. ''Steve...my office. Now.''

''That doesn't sound like a polite request, Doc.''

Oscar stepped closer. ''I'll put you in custody and force you to go if I have to, Pal,'' he said, not unkindly - but still meaning every word.

''You could try,'' Steve said belligerently. He turned to Mark. ''And you! You have no right to give medical permission for my wife!''

''I do now.''


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

''You can't do this!'' Steve argued. ''That's my wife in there - and you can't take away my rights without a court order!''

''We can get one, Steve,'' Mark explained. ''You've given us grounds. You're a danger to others -''

''Only _one _other - and he deserves it!''

''And possibly to yourself,'' Mark concluded. ''But if we go that route, it'll end in a 72 hour psych hold. I don't think you want that. I know that I don't.''

''If you force our hand, Pal,'' Oscar added, ''I can place you in custody - with or without charges - until that court order comes through.''

''Fine,'' Steve seethed through clenched teeth. ''I'll go with you. We'll 'talk','' he told Mark. Then he turned to Oscar. ''Do _not _call me your Pal.''

Oscar helped escort Steve (who went relatively peaceably) to Mark's office, then he returned to the little waiting room - one he'd seen far too much of lately - and sat down...to wait.

* * *

Mark leaned back in his desk chair, crossed his arms...and _stared_. Silently. The effect was unnerving, exactly as he'd intended it to be.

''Look Doc,'' Steve began, ''if you need me to say I'm sorry for what I did today, then I guess we're done here - because I'm not.''

''So you're telling me you would refuse your wife medical treatment she obviously needs because of your own petty jealousy?'' Mark shot back.

''It's not petty...and it isn't jealousy. Not anymore. It's gone beyond that. I...Doc, I don't feel Jaime is safe with him anymore. And before you say it, yes I know; he's saved her life. And mine. All well and good - and I'm grateful. But I think the 'good doctor' has snapped. And I don't understand why no one will listen to me!''

''Steve, I spoke to Michael myself and -''

''And 'nothing happened in that hotel room','' Steve parroted in a sing-song voice. ''Yes; I know the line of bull he fed you. But...you didn't ask the right questions. Turns out, I didn't either! But between Jaime and Marchetti himself, all the blanks are slowly filling in...and it's not a pretty picture.'' Steve went on to tell Mark everything - what Michael had said about Jaime's headaches being gone before the mission (and the timing of the one he'd neglected to mention), his suspicions about what Michael might have done, both in the hotel and later in the cellar and finally, Michael's own words that had taunted Steve into violence.

''And did Michael force that drink into your hand - again - today? Which I suspect you probably had more than one of?'' Mark asked pointedly.

Steve sighed. ''You don't believe me either.''

''It's not that I don't believe you...but these are very serious accusations.''

''About as serious as you and Oscar threatening to have me declared incompetent?'' Steve charged. Then his voice softened. ''Is anyone in there with him...with Marchetti...while he's with Jaime? Call me irrational all you want, Doc, but I'm really afraid for her safety.''

Mark nodded. ''I believe that you're afraid.''

''Well, at least we've gotten that far.''

''You're afraid of losing her - to anyone,'' Mark summarized.

Steve sighed deeply. He could see now that he'd have to find proof for himself...or get someone else who knew Jaime's case inside and out to help him! ''Doc, how's Rudy doing?'' he asked.

''They'll be moving him to a regular room in the morning.''

''That's wonderful. Do you think...how soon will I be able to see him?''

''Steve, you can't go charging in there with these wild accusations when the man is flat on his back after a cardiac incident!''

''Well, I know that. But...couldn't he just take a look at her test results - all of them - one more time? Just to see what he thinks?''

''That would end this for you?'' Mark asked.

''It would have to; you've taken away most of my options already.''

Mark nodded. In truth, whether he agreed with Steve or not, he'd brought up some valid points that - if true - should be given a closer look. ''I'll see what I can do,'' he promised.

''Doc...? Am I...do you think I could see Jaime? Please? I just wanna sit with her...''

Mark nodded. That, he understood. ''You'll have to have an escort - probably Russ - and I'll be coming with you, as well.''

''That's fine,'' Steve agreed. For now, anything that would get him back at Jaime's side.

* * *

Jaime was groggy (yet again) but her headache was gone and her eyes were open. She smiled when she saw Steve. Michael turned and stared, first at Steve and then beyond him to his two 'escorts'. He finished the note he was making on Jaime's chart and silently left the room. ''How do you feel?'' Steve asked, pulling up a chair. Mark and Russ stood quietly along the wall, watching and listening.

''Better now. Michael...took care of me.''

''Yeah; he has a way of doing that, doesn't he?'' Steve said ironically.

''Steve?'' Jaime's voice was tentative. ''Michael said...you tried to hurt him today. Is that...true? Is that what Oscar was so upset about?''

''I lost my cool yes,'' Steve explained, ''but not without a reason. Sweetheart, he told me what happened in that cellar. In fact, he clobbered me over the head with it.''

''He...oh. Steve, he didn't mean...what he said.''

''He meant every word.''

''No...he...he thought we were done. I mean, really _done_. I knew we'd find some way out...but he didn't. And...he just...said it.'' Jaime tried to explain.

Steve looked over toward Mark, then back at his wife. ''Jaime, I was talking about what he said to me today, in his office. What, _exactly_, are you talking about?''

Jaime's eyes brimmed with tears as she told him the rest of the truth. Steve heard her out...then, to keep from losing his temper again, he had to leave the room. Jaime watched him go, then strained to try and hear what he was saying to Oscar in the little room across the hall. Mark was still with her when she clutched her head in both hands and collapsed back onto her pillows.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Mark hit the emergency call light and Steve flew back across the hall in what seemed like a single stride. ''What happened?'' he asked. He looked down at Jaime, who'd grown pale and was completely 'out' - and then up at the OSI 'shrink'. ''Now do you believe me?'' he demanded, his voice strident and edgy. ''Every time Michael's alone with her, she gets worse. And any minute now, he'll come riding in here on his white horse and save the damsel that _he_put into distress!''

As if on cue, Michael rounded the doorway at a fast clip, stopping short for just a moment when he saw Steve, before rushing to his patient's side. He was the picture of efficiency and professionalism, just as Steve had predicted.

''What'd you do to her this time, Marchetti?'' Steve accused. ''To the woman you said you _love_! Yeah, Jaime told me, and -''

''Steve, this isn't the time or the place,'' Mark said quietly.

''Take him out of here so I can help his wife,'' Michael called out. As requested, Russ came back and led Steve into the waiting room...but Mark remained, taking a seat in the far corner. There seemed to be little that Michael could do this time. Unlike Jaime's other 'episodes', this one did not pass quickly. Even once he'd been forced to sedate her and her tense (already unconscious) body went limp, she still whimpered softly in pain.

The new doctor arrived and while he and Michael went over Jaime's case history, Steve returned to be with his wife, staying right by her side, holding her hand and talking to her softly (even though she likely couldn't hear him), brushing the hair from her eyes when she struggled against the pain...and silently cursing Marchetti in his head. When his rival brought Doctor Corinth in to meet his new patient, Steve turned to Michael with quiet fury.

''I don't know what you did to her...but I _will _find out,'' Steve promised.

Russ immediately pulled Steve out of the room...but Michael followed them. ''You keep accusing me of hurting your wife - but I'd like you to think about something. Every time she has these headaches, it has something to do with you. It's not my doing; I'm trying my best to help Jaime. To help _both_ of you! The one causing her problems...is you, Steve.''

* * *

''Rudy, I need your help,'' Steve pleaded the next morning. ''_Jaime _needs your help.'' Slowly and carefully, mindful of both Rudy's condition and Mark's watchful eye, Steve began filling his dear friend in on everything that had happened...medically, anyway. ''We brought all three of Jaime's MRIs and her earlier x-rays...if you feel up to -''

''Of course, I'll take a look,'' Rudy told them. ''I'm tougher than they give me credit for, you know.'' Mark retrieved the portable light box they'd stashed in the hallway and first pinned up the x-rays. Rudy looked at them carefully, then nodded. Mark pinned up three separate views of the same area of Jaime's brain - the frontal lobes, to start with. Then after a few more minutes of quiet, intense study, Rudy indicated he was ready for the next set...and then the last.

''The good news,'' he said slowly, ''is that I don't see any brain swelling in the last MRIs to indicate damage from the beating she took.''

''And...the bad news?'' Steve wondered.

''I don't know if I'd call it 'bad news'...but there's nothing on any of these scans to account for the trouble Jaime's having. Nothing. All three sets are identical...and normal. From what you've described, if the problem isn't in her brain, it could be in her ear. A malfunction of some sort.''

Mark thought for a moment. He knew Steve would never allow Michael to operate on Jaime's ear - and to tell the truth, he didn't think he could give his own consent in good conscience at that moment, either. Steve's theories sounded delusional and paranoid on the surface...but what if they were true? ''Rudy,'' he began, ''do you have a model of Jaime's ear? If you could show me what to look for - at least a general overview, since I know I can't delve too deeply - I could take a look myself.''

Rudy thought for a moment, mulling this over. While Mark Conrad wasn't a 'medical' doctor, he was a man of the sciences; he'd had some medical training along the way (probably a bit more than most in his position) and there were numerous things he could look for that wouldn't involve major surgery. Rudy told Steve and Mark where to find the ear that had been removed from Jaime's head when Kingsley's device (and the frequency jammer) had caused it to malfunction...and they quickly retrieved it. Mark also brought back a notebook and sat down, ready to note everything Rudy would say and/or show him.

The older doctor turned the component over on the tray table in front of him, staring at it, then picked it up in both hands for a closer look. ''My God,'' he murmured, ''it can't be...It's...impossible!''


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Doctor Corinth spent a good chunk of time examining his patient. He was OSI and had studied bionics under Rudy's guidance while working at the Colorado Springs facility, but he'd never worked with an actual bionic patient before. It was a little unnerving the first time he tried to take Jaime's pulse from her right arm but he quickly got used to that. He wished he'd known her before she became so ill, but Michael had shown him all of her baseline test results and he was working from there. He wasn't aware of the actual circumstances that had forced him to be brought into this case, but he could definitely sense bad blood between his new patient's husband and Michael. That wasn't his concern though - at least not for now, not unless it interfered with his ability to care for his new patient. If that occurred, he wouldn't be shy about stepping in; his primary (and only) concern was making Jaime well again.

* * *

''What is it, Rudy?'' Steve asked tensely.

The doctor was still staring at the bionic ear he held in his hand. ''This...can't be possible...'' he repeated. ''This should be the faulty ear we removed and replaced...but...it isn't!''

''What are you saying?'' Mark puzzled.

''This is the _new _component,'' Rudy explained. ''The one we used as a replacement - and that means the faulty one is back in Jaime's head, doing God-knows-what to her brain! I put this piece in myself...but somehow...they got switched!''

Steve exchanged a meaningful glance with Mark. He knew exactly what had happened - and _finally_ Mark knew it too. As awful and unbelievable as it sounded, the proof was now right in front of them. The new (working) component had been removed from Jaime's ear and replaced with the faulty one that had been sending shocks into her brain – and there was only one way that could've happened. Quietly, they summoned Doctor Corinth - and Oscar.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later (and thanks to emergency bionic surgery that Rudy had quietly supervised from a wheelchair, at his own insistence), Jaime was doing much better. Doctor Corinth had met with Michael (who was remaining at National as a consultant on the case) but hadn't mentioned the switched components. ''She's asking for you,'' he told Michael quietly.

''What about Steve?'' Michael wondered.

''He went home for the night; hasn't come back yet,'' Doctor Corinth explained. ''If you want to see her, I won't say anything. Frankly, I could use your input.''

Michael nodded - and headed up to the Third Floor. He found Jaime awake, very pale and lying quietly in her bed. ''Good morning,'' he said in a smooth voice. ''How do you feel?''

''Strange...'' came her answer.

Doctor Corinth watched from the doorway, hovering anxiously until he saw his patient's reaction. Then... ''I'll leave you to it,'' he told Michael.

''Strange...how?'' Michael probed.

''My head..._hurts_. Doctor Corinth...he gave me something. Michael, what's happening to me?''

''We're working on it,'' he told her softly, reaching for her hand.

''I wish you hadn't..._left_. Michael...I...I miss you. Steve is so..._different _now. And...it scares me. He scares me.''

''What can I do to help?'' Michael asked.

Jaime's voice was growing weaker - and quivered as she spoke. ''Last night they told me...that you aren't my doctor anymore...''

''That's right.''

''Can they do that? I mean...I like Doctor Corinth but..._I need you, Michael_! Can you come back...if I request it?''

''You'd go against Steve's wishes - and Mark Conrad's?'' he wondered.

''Well...yeah. What you said to me in that basement...it got me thinking. I care about Steve. I do! But...I think I made a mistake.''

Michael face brightened. ''Oh?''

''Yeah. I...I wanna be with you. Because...well...I love you too, Michael. I...I'll give Steve that...annulment. It's what he wants anyway,'' she finished sadly.

This was more than he'd dared hope for - and all he'd ever wanted. There _had_ to be a way! ''If you request it - and tell Mark and Oscar what _you_ want - maybe they'll allow it.'' He bent down and kissed her softly on the lips. ''I love you, Jaime,'' he told her. ''And I'll do _anything _to make this happen.''

''_Anything_, Marchetti?'' Steve rolled out from under the bed, tape recorder in hand.

''My office - _now_!'' Mark told him, suddenly appearing in the doorway. ''We need to talk.''

* * *

Michael looked around the room, at Oscar, Russ, Mark...and _Steve_. ''Tell me again how you'd do '_anything_' to be with my wife,'' Steve seethed, fighting mightily to keep his temper under control.

''Michael, what have you done?'' Oscar asked. ''And don't bother; we already know the answer.'' He turned to Steve. ''We never should've doubted you, Pal; I can't apologize enough.''

''Wait a minute!'' Michael protested. ''What's going on here? I haven't done anything wrong! _Jaime loves me_; she wants to be with me! I had nothing to do with how she feels or what she said!''

''We know what happened,'' Mark told him quietly. ''You switched Jaime's good ear for the malfunctioning one. And you probably ensured that it would hurt her even more than it already had.''

''You turned down the electrical impulses somehow,'' Steve went on, ''the first two nights in that hotel room. Then you turned them up even stronger so she'd be 'sick' again on the flight home - so you could be her hero. Except it didn't work out that way...and you _both_ were nearly killed! Jaime could've fought her way out of that basement - and saved both of you - if it weren't for what you did to her! You better hope – no, you better _pray_- there was no permanent damage...or God help you when I'm done with you!''

''Michael Marchetti,'' Oscar said grimly, ''you're under arrest.''


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Steve savored the sight of Michael being placed in handcuffs. "Can I have five minutes alone with him, Oscar?" he requested.

"Not a chance, Pal. Sorry. We need a _live_ prisoner to prosecute. But if you need a minute or two to...ah..._talk _to him, we'll do our best not to listen."

Steve nodded and crossed the office. He stood just inches from his now-former rival...and drew back his fist, careful to temper the strength. (He didn't need a murder charge!) Without a word to telegraph his intentions, he punched Michael in the jaw. "For Jaime," he said quietly. ''You could've killed her. And just so you could play the 'hero' card one more time!'' He hit him again, in the mouth that had taunted him. "For me...for what and _who _you tried to steal away." And then Steve drew back his fist one last time and socked Michael in the stomach, doubling him over. "And that one is just because you're scum - and deserved it." Steve turned to Oscar (and to Mark, who was getting ready to try and pull him away). "You can take him now; I'm finished. And so are you, Marchetti."

* * *

"Jaime, this is Frank Morrisey; he's an OSI attorney," Steve explained. She was still in a hospital bed, until Doctor Corinth (who was consulting with Rudy now) could be sure there were no lasting effects from what Michael had done to her) but she already looked SO much better. "Frank needs to hear what you told me this morning...if you feel up to it."

Jaime reached up to shake the lawyer's hand. "Promise me something, Mr. Morrisey?" she asked. "I still can't believe that he...did all those things! I want you to _nail him to the wall._''

"Frank is the best we've got," Steve promised her.

"Mrs. Austin," Morrisey began, "Did anything unusual happen on the plane trip to Trinidad?" (Steve had already filled him in on the mission he'd worked with Jaime, that had very nearly failed - and that had highlighted her problem; now the attorney needed Jaime to tell him about Trinidad in her own words.)

"No. We talked a lot about the assignment. I gave him some tips. I'm still new at this...or at least my _memory _is new at it, but I advised him...some...and we made plans on how we'd go about getting it done. And I slept a lot too."

"Any headaches on the flight?" the attorney asked.

"No. They seemed to happen when I used my ear..." Jaime stopped herself. "I mean..."

"It's okay, Sweetheart," Steve told her. "He's got Level 9 Clearance - and he knows all about us. He also knows about the MRIs - and that Michael likely switched your ear components while you were sedated there." He could already see that his wife's speech pattern had returned to nearly normal, without the pauses and breaks that the shocks to her brain had likely caused. She was still very pale and her voice was thin and weak, but she sounded more like herself again - and that gave Steve _hope_.

"Mrs. Austin, did Mr. Marchetti give you anything to eat or drink on the plane?" the attorney questioned.

"No; that wasn't til later."

"Later - in the hotel room?" Morrisey clarified. Jaime nodded. "Tell me what happened."

"He made some drinks - one for each of us - and we talked some more," Jaime said, straining for the details. "He said he should check my ear...and he did. Then I started getting so sleepy. Just...all of a sudden. I don't think I even finished the drink. And that's...the last thing I remember. I guess I went to sleep."

"Did you use your listening abilities the next day - your first full day there?"

"No; we just went in and established a cover, set things up. It took most of the day. That night, there weren't any drinks. We just talked a little and went to bed. The second day was harder - actually diving in and getting things rolling - pretty intense stuff. I used my ear a little but mostly we just worked together on the assignment and then went back to the hotel."

"And did you feel ill at all while this was going on?" Morrisey queried.

"Not while we were working. But when we went back to the hotel, as soon as I walked in, I heard...a bug."

"Any headaches with that, Mrs Austin?"

"Nope; I was fine. I pulled Michael out into the hall and told him. He...um..." She looked apologetically at Steve, realizing he hadn't heard this part yet. "He...Michael...suggested we put on a show - that was what he called it - to convince them we were husband and wife. And...well...we did."

"You did _what_?" Steve asked (as gently as he could still manage). "What did he do to you?"

"I...we...sort of...simulated sex."

"What?!" Steve was floored. "How did you _simulate sex_.?"

"We made...um...noises, sounds...bounced on the bed so they'd hear it...then I found the bug and got rid of it."

"Did he touch you?" Steve seethed.

"No."

"After you found the bug," Morrisey probed, "was there any pain at all?"

"No. None. I felt fine. And then...he made me another drink."


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

''Marchetti, you have a visitor,'' the NSB guard told him.

''Unless it's my attorney - because I _demand_ an attorney - I'm not interested.''

Jack Hansen appeared in the doorway to The Hole first. ''This is the NSB - and the OSI - and you'll get your damned attorney...when we're finished with you.''

''I'll have every one of you brought up on charges!'' Michael spat.

''Good luck with that,'' Steve told him, stepping into the tiny cell. He nodded to Hansen, who closed the door. The two former rivals were alone.

''I'll be starting with you, Austin,'' Michael promised. ''When you pulled your little stunt, I was still in charge at National. You're looking at Destruction of Government Property - a felony - not to mention what you did to me!''

''I didn't leave a mark on you; at least, not that time,'' Steve countered, looking at the now-former doctor's swollen jaw and split lip that had happened the second time...when a roomful of men failed to witness what had happened. ''And Oscar himself is in charge now, until Rudy is well enough. He'll see that those charges don't stick.''

''There's still the little matter of _your wife_...isn't there?'' Michael taunted. ''She's why you're really here...right?''

''You nearly _killed _her, Michael,'' Steve snarled. ''That last MRI at the hospital - after the mission - you turned the voltage up again. Didn't you?''

''You'll never prove that.''

''_Didn't you_?'' Steve thundered. Michael only smirked at him. ''Any part of what you did could be considered attempted murder - and you'll already be charged with that - but the last MRI...you really _were_ trying to _kill_ her! You don't even need to answer me; I already _know_!''

''You don't deserve her,'' Michael said with quiet superiority.

''And you do?''

''Well, of course. I brought Jaime back to life. And then I _saved _her life - and yours, although I don't know why. That was my mistake, I guess,'' Michael mused.

Steve was forcing himself not to throw another punch. ''Your 'mistake' was in thinking my wife would throw away everything we have together for..._you_.''

''You're forgetting that she kissed me. Not the other way around. More than once - and _after_ you took those 'sacred vows'. She enjoyed it, too! Came back for more! Her lips and her eyes told me who she _really _wanted...and that's why I did what I did. For her.''

''And that's why you tried to kill her?'' Steve asked ironically. ''Makes sense to me.''

''Of course not, idiot!'' Michael laughed. ''IF I tried to kill her - which you'll never prove - it would've been to save her from having to spend the rest of her life with _you_!''

Steve stood his ground with clenched fists (the left one throbbing inside its cast), trying to satisfy himself by looking at the injuries he'd already inflicted. It wasn't easy. Michael continued to taunt him.

''Would you like to hear more about how _your wife _kissed me? How she pulled me close and had longing in her eyes that I'll bet she never had with you? Because I can tell you all about that...''

''I think we're done here,'' Steve told him, turning to knock on the cell door.

''Austin? One more thing to think about before you go. This case - these so-called charges against me - will never go to trial. It can't...unless you're willing to expose Rudy's Bionic Project in open court. Yeah; you didn't consider that, did you? Talking about Jaime's ear and any adjustments you think I might've made -''

''Adjustments?'' Steve argued. ''You switched her good ear for the faulty one and then you increased the voltage, little by little, until she almost died!''

''Believe what you want. But are you willing to have Jaime's ear - and all the sordid little details about my _affair _with your wife - brought out in court?''

Steve knocked on the cell door to signal that he was done - _before_ he gave in to the urge to knock Michael into orbit.

* * *

''Twenty years on each of the five charges,'' Morrisey summarized, ''if we can prove them in court. Which, of course, we can.''

''And if we don't go to court?'' Steve asked.

''Then it could be plea bargained down to eight years per charge - or possibly even one year. And if the judge runs them concurrently...''

''It's not enough! We can't go that route!'' Steve insisted. ''But Marchetti had a point. We can't risk talking about bionics in an open court. So what do we do?''

''We take him before a tribunal instead,'' Oscar announced. ''One judge, no jury, no 'open court'.''

''Any decent lawyer he might hire will _demand _a jury trial,'' Morrisey explained. ''Because even Marchetti himself knows we can't go that route; he's trying to force a plea bargain.''

''We'll get the tribunal,'' Oscar vowed, ''on the grounds of National Security.''

* * *

''Want me to carry you over the threshold?'' Steve offered.

Jaime giggled. ''Kinda late for that, isn't it? Besides, you did, when we first got married.''

''I know, but technically we're still newlyweds. And we _still _haven't managed to get in a honeymoon, so...'' he lifted Jaime into his strong, gentle arms and put her down again inside the house. ''Besides, how often do I get to bring my lovely wife home from the hospital?''

''Lately?'' Jaime laughed. ''Too often!''


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

''_Nothing __**too**__ strenuous_,'' Doctor Corinth had instructed.

''Define 'strenuous','' Jaime giggled (with _that glint _in her eyes) when Steve made sure she was comfortable before lying down beside her.

Steve had to reach out and touch her face, to reassure himself that Jaime was truly _here_ - alive, almost-well...and _his_. In the month before and the weeks after their elopement, he'd come so very close to losing her, more times than he wanted to count. He'd also nearly made the worst mistake imaginable...leaving her. And yet here she was, smiling radiantly at him - and, overcome with emotion, he could only smile back and pull her tenderly into his arms.

''Strenuous...'' he repeated. ''Does Doctor Corinth realize we could jump three stories or run 60 miles an hour and it wouldn't be 'strenuous'?''

''We could swim across the lake behind National - and back again,'' Jaime laughed, ''and not break a sweat. Or a full match in tennis - not 'strenuous' either.''

They were playing now, something they'd had precious little time to do in the last few months...and they were savoring it. ''A few times 'round Rudy's track, with weights in our hands...not so 'strenuous'.'' Steve chuckled.

''Swinging from the chandelier,'' Jaime added.

''Except we don't have a chandelier.''

''Leap tall buildings in a single bound -''

''I said that already.''

''Now you're just being difficult, Colonel.''

''Try me...I'm not _that _difficult,'' he promised.

''Okay...then we could just do _this_,'' Jaime said in a soft, sultry voice. She moved as close to Steve as she could possibly get, pressing directly against him, and teasing his lips with tiny, nibbling kisses.

''And _this _definitely works for me,'' he told her.

''Oh, I know.'' Their kisses deepened, their breath quickened and soon their bodies became one. If they'd owned one, the chandelier would've been swinging.

* * *

On the tiny metal bench in the NSB's Hole, Michael scowled, vowing they'd never get away with what they'd dared to try and do to him!

* * *

END OF EPISODE 13, cont'd in Episode 14 (Season Finale)


End file.
